Falling Slowly
by Idiosyncratic Enigma
Summary: A chance meeting at a restaurant throws Casey into a whirlwind relationship that quickly spirals out of control, and she ends up trapped in an abusive relationship. William takes Casey to an abandoned building where he tortures and abuses her. Casey prays that her friends will find her in time. WARNING - strong themes in this chapter (9). See A/N for more info.
1. Origins

Chapter title: Origins  
Publish date: 3/18/13  
Summary: A chance meeting at a restaurant throws Casey into a whirlwind relationship that quickly spirals out of control, and she ends up trapped in an abusive relationship. Ch 1 - how it all began.  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Law & Order characters. William Colton is mine and not based on anyone I know.

Note: I started writing this story about five or so years ago and had to stop off and on because of writer's block and re-writes and edits. I also haven't watched SVU for 3 or so seasons (sacrilege, I know!) so some of the things in my story may not match up to what has happened on the show. I believe I intended this to take place during season 8 or 9. Here is the final product. Hope you enjoy. Reviews are appreciated! :) Oh and the title comes from the movie/musical "Once," specifically the lyric "You have suffered enough and warred with yourself. It's time that you've won."

It happened gradually at first. So slowly she didn't realize exactly what was happening. As it began it seemed normal. As time went on things got worse and then it all spiraled out of control. When she did finally come to terms with her situation, it was too late.

Casey met William Colton by chance at her favorite restaurant when the host botched her reservation and double booked her table. Casey liked to go there by herself at the end of a difficult week, just to unwind and relax. She had made the reservation on Monday, and was being lead to her table when both she and the hostess realized there were already people sitting there. After a quick consultation with the reservation books, they found out the table had somehow been double booked. William was there with a prospective client and had apologized profusely. He bought her a drink (which she had to drink at the bar) because he felt so bad, and promised to make it up to her by taking her out.

"I ruined your dinner plans tonight, and I'm very sorry. Let me take you out to make up for it."

"That's not necessary. I come here often enough. It's no big deal," Casey said, waving her hand.

"No, I insist. Here's my card," he said as they exchanged cards. "I'll contact you next week. Miss-"

Her heart was pounding and felt like it was in her throat. She tried to slow her breathing and calm down. She could play it off. She had to. "Novak. Casey Novak," she squeaked out. She hoped it didn't sound as silly out loud as it did in her head.

"Miss Novak, I apologize again."

Casey shook his outstretched hand. "Mr. Colton, it isn't your fault. No hard feelings, I promise."

"I'm still going to take you to dinner. I have your card and know where you work, so I'll pester you until you relent." He winked at her and Casey felt her heart flutter. He flagged down his waiter. "Oh! Waiter, bring this young lady whatever she wants to drink, on my tab. Have a good evening, Miss Novak." He gave her a little nod and then turned back to his client.

Casey had gone back to the bar in a daze. This was the type of thing that only happened in books and movies, never in real life – especially not in her life. After months – years, even – of looking for Mr. Right, she'd given up. Her schedule was too hectic; she never had time to meet anyone. William seemed nice, and he wasn't wearing a ring. She looked. She knew it was premature to even think about a relationship with the businessman who stole her table. It would probably amount to nothing. He probably wouldn't even meet her for dinner; he was probably just putting on a show for his client. She sat in a chair, sipping her drink, and watched as parties were sat. When she finished she lingered a little bit longer, half-hoping to get one last glimpse of William before she left.

William was very handsome – the sort of guy that would typically be out of her league. The type that all the girls wanted but only the lucky ones got. If they were in high school, he would be the star quarterback and she the awkward and invisible clarinet player. He was polite, too. She would bet he was the type of guy to open the door for someone, to help an old lady cross the street, or to pull out her chair before she sat. She decided she wouldn't mind if this encounter turned into a relationship.

As she rode her bike home, she mentally slapped herself. Who am I kidding? He probably won't call. As usual, I'm getting my hopes up about nothing. Learn to deal with disappointment and a life alone, Casey. When she got home she got a pint of Ben and Jerry's out of the freezer and sat down to watch late night television, and ended up falling asleep on her couch.

The next morning, after she returned from her morning run, there was a small bouquet of flowers at her door. Creepy, but sweet at the same time. Even though nobody was around, the gesture made her blush with excitement. She took the flowers inside, put them in water, and read the card: Miss Novak, Again I am sorry for the mix-up at the restaurant last night. I had a cancellation Tuesday evening and hope, if you are available, you will join me for dinner. Please call me. William.

Well, if things weren't starting to turn out well! Casey did not want to seem too eager so she waited until she arrived at work before she called him. They made plans to have dinner the following evening at a deli off Times Square.

The date went fabulously. William was a complete gentleman. Her perceived expectation of him proved to be correct. He pulled out her chair for her and almost put her napkin in her lap before she stopped him. Throughout the evening their conversation topics stayed in neutral territory. He was thirty-six and was a pharmacologist. He had his doctorate by the time he was twenty-five and opened his own business before he was thirty. Casey felt a bit unaccomplished after hearing that, but William seemed fascinated by her line of work. They talked about their families – Casey's small, one parent, two child family and William's large, two parent, seven child family. Eventually the conversation turned to movies, then to music, then to theatre. They didn't realize how late it had gotten until the waiters and busboys began to pointedly put the chairs on top of the tables around them. Their conversation was far from over, but it was already late and they both had work the following morning. William walked her halfway to her apartment and asked her out again before parting ways. Of course, Casey said yes. After so many years a man was actually interested in her. It was not an opportunity she was going to turn down.

As she walked home she couldn't suppress her smile, even if she wanted to. She was giddy and almost felt ridiculous at how excited she was. This felt so right, like they had known each other for years. She thought of herself as the future Casey Colton, and smiled at how well her name sounded with his.

Over the next couple of weeks they saw each other as much as possible. It was a whirlwind romance, and they were falling fast for each other. Casey's colleagues, as well as the SVU squad, noticed a change in her demeanor. She was happier, and it showed in her work.

It was less than two weeks before they slept together and about three months before they moved in together. Casey broke the lease on her apartment and put most of her things in storage. When she first announced she was moving in with William, she was met with disapproving looks from everyone. Her lawyer colleagues didn't have the balls to say it, but the detectives did.

"Casey, you haven't even known the guy six months. Isn't it a bit premature to move in with him? How well do you really know him?" Elliot asked when she broke the news.

"I know, and this isn't like me at all. But there's something about William that's so…right. He makes me happy and feel good about myself. I've never felt like this before; I've never met anyone like him. It's so easy to talk to him, and we clicked when we first met. I feel like I've known him for years."

"Okay. I'd still think twice about giving up your apartment. What will happen after the honeymoon feeling is over?"

"It isn't over yet, Elliot. I don't think it ever will be."

"Just be careful, Casey. I don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"Thanks for the fatherly advice, but I'm a big girl. If it happens, I can handle another broken heart. I've bounced back from them before, I'll be able to do it again." She had known they would not take to her news with open arms. She would be hesitant if Olivia announced she was moving in with someone she had just met, too. Especially if nobody else had met the guy yet. But this felt different. It felt right. She was determined they would adore him as much as she did. "But I want you guys to meet him. After I move in, I'll cook dinner and you can come over. If it's all right with William of course."

"So it's William, not Will or Billy or Liam?"

"Noooo," she said, shaking her head fervently. "He got angry when I called him Will on one of our first dates. Said something about how he hates nicknames or there was a kid he hated growing up who went by one of those names. I'm not sure. He was kind of vague on the details. But he is William. No nicknames."

"Okay, duly noted. I'll try to keep a date open for dinner. I'm not making any promises though – I'm a pretty busy guy," Elliot said, winking at her. Casey just rolled her eyes and whacked him good-naturedly with the folder she was carrying.

Just a few days after that conversation, the abuse started.

They had been living together for a little over a week, and to celebrate Casey had decided to make a surprise dinner. She wasn't much of a cook, but she knew how to make fettuccini alfredo. She got spinach noodles and chicken breasts. She followed her mom's recipe but still somehow managed to mess up. The noodles were overcooked and the chicken was a little burned, but it wasn't entirely inedible, so she served it anyway. She set the table with a nice set of plates, lit the candles, and poured the wine. At least everything looked perfect.

William came home in a rotten mood and barely looked at the nicely set table. He just plopped himself down with a scowl on his face, taping his feet and his fingers impatiently. When Casey set his bowl down in front of him, he didn't even wait for her to sit or serve herself before digging in.

Casey was so surprised by his attitude that she just sat down and watched as his face contorted into a grimace as he chewed. Then before he swallowed, he spit it out in his bowl, and then shoved the bowl to the ground, where it shattered and sent its contents flying across the floor.

"What the fuck was that supposed to be?" He asked, wiping his face and taking a swig of wine.

"Fettuccini alfredo. I know it's a little over-cooked, but I tried my best. It's still edible…" Casey trailed off.

"Hardly." He shoved his chair back, crossed over to Casey, grabbed her by the wrist, and threw her on the ground. Then he got a dish rag and threw it in her face. "Clean this mess up." He stalked out of the kitchen and seconds later she heard their bedroom door slam shut.

Casey sat on the floor in a daze, too shocked to cry. She carefully scooped up the pieces of broken glass and then cleaned up the floor, as well as the rest of the kitchen, making sure it was spotless. She dumped the rest of the meal in the garbage. Finally, she sat back down in her seat and started to cry. She covered her mouth with her hand and took deep breaths to calm herself down. She didn't want William to hear and get even more angry because she was crying. Trembling slightly, she went into the living room, where she lay down on the couch and forced herself to fall asleep.

A few hours later William was shaking her awake. She didn't say anything, she just lay there as tears clouded her eyes. William knelt down next to her and stroked her cheek and her hair, wiping away the tears that escaped. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I had a bad day today. It's a crappy excuse, but I'm so sorry." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I tried so hard to make it perfect," she whispered.

"I'm sure you did. But let's forget about that. Come back to bed. I miss you." He helped her up and kissed her, then slipped his arm around her and they went back to the bedroom.

It was as though that incident was a test. And Casey passed with flying colors.

As the weeks went on, it got worse. It was little things at first. They'd be out to dinner and she'd say something he deemed idiotic, and would hit her with a menu. To the casual observer, it would look like a little love pat or that it was just in jest, but he always hit harder than it looked. Sometimes a purple bruise would appear, other times it was a lighter bruise, but still just as painful to the touch. Sometimes he would kick her under the table. There were times when, as they would be walking to the subway or to get a cab, he would push her so she would stumble. He would catch her and pretend she was drunk and act like the good boyfriend, trying to keep her steady on her feet. But in reality he had a death grip on her arm, and more often than not it would bruise.

When he hit her at home, he was always careful to avoid her face so people wouldn't know what was going on. Once, he did, and when Olivia asked her about it, Casey lied and told her while at practice she miscalculated a fly ball and it hit her face. Olivia seemed skeptical, but didn't press further. Another time she didn't wear a long enough shirt to cover a finger bruise on her arm. This time Elliot was the one who noticed, and Casey made herself blush and say she and William had gotten carried away the night before.

She would tell herself she needed to stop this, but the bruises always faded within a few days. And if he saw the bruises he'd look so remorseful that Casey would forgive him. No matter what he did, she could always forgive him. It was usually her fault anyway, or at least she deserved it. And every time it got bad enough where she would seriously consider leaving him, he would do something sweet, like give her flowers and chocolates, or run her a bath with her favorite scents. She couldn't help it. She had fallen hard.

After the dinner incident, William started to drink more often. Casey hated it when he did that because she would inevitably do something to piss him off. He came unhinged so easily, Casey felt like she was walking on eggshells to appease him. Sometimes he'd come home from work so upset he'd hit her, and Casey would tell herself this was the only way William could work out his aggression, and that in a few hours he'd make everything okay again. She could deal with it. His actions when he wasn't angry or drunk were worth the pain she went through when he was.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Hidden

Chapter title: Hidden  
Publish date: 3/18/13  
Summary: Casey is at the receiving end of a drunken rage.  
Disclaimer: William is mine. Well, from my imagination. I wouldn't want anybody like him. No ownership of SVU or their characters.  
Note: When I originally wrote this, Spamalot was still playing on Broadway. I decided not to move it to current times.

Things were gradually getting worse. All hell broke loose five months after they'd moved in together. It was a Sunday evening, and Casey had gone to see Spamalot with one of her co-workers, Allison. Allison had won two tickets and put the second one in an office pool, and Casey's name had been drawn. They had gone to the show and out for dinner and drinks afterwards. Casey had loved it – hilarious and quirky, and that type of comedy was right up her alley. She hadn't gone out with anyone other than William since they moved in together, aside from work lunches, and the night out had been exactly what she needed. Plus it gave her an excuse to stay out late on a weekend. She had gotten into the habit of staying at the office as late as possible some nights so she wouldn't have to face the wrath of William when she got home. Sometimes he'd be asleep, passed out drunk on the couch, but other times he'd be waiting up for her, expecting an explanation then hitting her if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. She had even left a couple of changes of clothes, as well as some pajamas, in her office on the occasion she really didn't want to return home.

She didn't leave him because she kept telling herself it was a phase, and he'd grow out of it. Or get over it. On the rare occasion he showed her the same affection he did when they first met, everything else would melt away and be forgotten. Like when they'd lie in bed together on the weekends, not saying anything, just enjoying being with each other – he'd trace patterns on her back and arms and gently kiss the bruises and scars. Those days they wouldn't get out of bed until noon. Those days were the ones Casey fervently hoped for each weekend, but rarely received.

So that Sunday it was nearly midnight before Casey came home. Curtain was at 3 and the show ran about two and a half hours. They waited at the stage door for nearly two hours for autographs, pictures, and congratulations. They finally picked a place for dinner around eight and stayed until the restaurant closed at eleven. Casey had warned William it would be a late night and to not wait up for her. But he was, a beer in one hand and at least three empty bottles were lying on the floor around him. Casey was a bit tipsy herself, and generally in a good mood. She could tell William was about to snap so she tried to lighten the mood.

"Find your gra-o-a-o-aaaaaaail, find your grail!" she sang (off-key and quite terribly), doing her best impression of Sara Ramirez, and danced over to William. She plopped down next to him, kissed his cheek, and continued. "Life is really up to you, you must choose –"

He pushed her away. "What the fuck are you singing? If you can even call that singing."

"It's from the show," Casey said defensively, now sober.

He winced. "Well stop. God, sometimes your voice just grates on my nerves."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Did you even go to a show? Or was that a cover for something?"

"Where did that come from? Of course I went to the show! I told you before I'd be getting home late."

"Yeah, and that could just as easily be a cover."

"Cover for what?"

"Just because you say it doesn't make it true," he continued, ignoring her question. "Let me see your program. And your ticket stub."

"Seriously?" Casey couldn't believe it. But the look on his face told her he wasn't joking. She pulled both items out of her purse. He grabbed them from her hand and studied them. He compared the signatures on the cover to the names on the inside.

"Whose is this?" he asked, pointing to the sole silver Sharpie autograph.

"I-I don't remember. I just shoved my program at anyone who walked out the stage door."

He grabbed her wrist and twisted. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

He brought her closer and whispered in her ear "Wanna bet?" He threw her back to the couch and started to rip up her program and ticket stub, stuffing the shreds of paper in his current beer bottle.

Casey just stared at him in disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes. She started crying. She couldn't help it. The day had been so perfect, and now in that one minute, it was ruined. She knew her crying aggravated him and she was always able to swallow her tears, but not that night. And it flipped a switch in him.

She saw fire blaze in his eyes as his face turned beet red. Boiling with anger would be the perfect and most accurate description. When she realized what was about to happen, it was a split second too late. She was able to run about two steps before he lunged at her. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her down to the ground, then pulled her back towards himself. Casey knew there would be no point in fighting back – if she did he would just hit her harder, hurt her more – so she just gave up.

William reached down and grabbed her arm and yanked her up and half-dragged her to the other side of the couch and threw her on the ground. He kicked her several times in the side and stomach, then rolled her over and stomped on her back and then punched her several times. He grabbed her by the hair and then smacked her head against the floor. It was all Casey could do to keep from crying out in pain. When her head hit the floor she lost consciousness for a second and when she came to everything was swimming around her. He had stopped hitting and kicking her, so she thought he was finished. But then he once again grabbed her arm and pulled her up, throwing her forcibly against the wall, knocking several pictures askew. She leaned over, trying to catch her breath and debating what her chances would be if she decided to run. Before she could make a decision, he grabbed both arms and threw her against the wall again. The glass in one of the picture frames cut into her back. He brought his hands to her neck and he squeezed, pressing her against the wall.

"You stupid bitch," he growled. He brought his face close to hers and started to kiss her all over her face. He gave her a sloppy kiss on the lips before whispering in her ear "don't come to bed tonight." He released his hold on her neck and pushed her to the ground, kicking her one more time for good measure. He left her there, huddled in a ball, and locked the door to their bedroom.

She sat there for a long time, rocking herself to calm down. She should have known better than to test his patience. Finally, she stood, wobbling, and made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the light above the stove and took her compact out of her purse. She examined her face in the dim light, noting the only facial injuries were a cut lip and a scratch on her temple. She was already thinking of ways she could explain away the cuts on her face. She didn't even want to think about the rest of her injuries. But at least they could be hidden under clothes.

She cleaned up the mess in the living room and slipped out of her skirt, draping it on the back of a chair. William had been smart. The only bathroom was through the bedroom, and the bedroom was where all her clothes were. Luckily she had picked up their dry cleaning a few days before and she had a couple of outfits hanging in the hall closet. At least she'd have something to wear the next day if the door was still locked when she got up. That night, however, she was going to have to make do with what she already had on.

She lay down on the couch, wincing in pain as the soft material brushed across the fresh wounds and bruises. She didn't understand what had happened. William had never been so severe before. He had kicked her out of bed before, but not after a beating. She didn't want to think about what caused him to hurt her, so she pushed them away and shifted into a different position. She couldn't get comfortable, so she forced herself to get up, and took a Tylenol PM to knock herself out and hopefully relieve some of the pain. After several minutes, the medication kicked in and she fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning Casey awoke feeling as though her body was on fire. Her back ached and it hurt to move. She sat up as carefully as she could, but every move she made sent pain running through her veins. The door to the bedroom was open, meaning William was out for his morning run or had gone to work early. It was a miracle he didn't wake her up as he left. Casey didn't have much time to get ready if he had just gone out for a run. She walked stiffly but quickly to the bathroom and took a shower, not bothering to wash her hair and not caring if it looked gross. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She didn't want to see the damage done to her body.

As she did her make-up, she examined her face. The cut on her lip wasn't bad – it looked like she had just bitten it. Her neck, on the other hand, was a different story. She traced the bruises with her finger and tried to figure out how the hell she was going to cover them up. She hated turtlenecks; she always felt like she was being strangled – and after last night, that was the last thing she wanted to feel. She dug through her closet and finally found it stuffed in a corner: a gold, black, red, purple, and green silk scarf. She was typically not the type of person to wear scarves, at least not decorative ones. This one had been a gift from her mother years ago, and before transferring to SVU she would wear it every now and then just so she wouldn't feel guilty about her mom wasting money. The scarf would have to do. It was the only thing she had.

She chose a dark green, long-sleeved shirt – the one color in the scarf she felt she looked the best in. If she was going to wear a scarf, she might as well wear a color she could rock. She paired it with a black suit and skirt, pulled on her shoes, and tied the scarf around her neck. She threw on her coat and a winter scarf, and headed out the door.


	3. Attack

Chapter title: Attack  
Publish date: 3/30/13

That morning was busy. Casey had an arraignment first thing and then spent the rest of the morning drowned in paperwork. She had a meeting with her boss, who then took her to lunch. She had to get a warrant for one of the detectives and headed over to the SVU squad room as soon as it was signed. Her four main detectives wanted to discuss their current case with her, so she took a breather at Elliot's desk while she waited for him and Olivia to get out of a meeting with Cragen. Even though she was going to be there for a while, she didn't remove her coat and especially not her scarf. It was getting a little warm in the room, but she didn't want to feel so exposed in such an open area. She didn't want to take chances that they would see her bruises.

She studied the pictures on Elliot's desk, avoiding conversation, although she already knew the stories behind each one. Munch and Fin were standing around her, bickering away as usual. Munch's current conspiracy theory was based on the government using cell phone radio waves to control everything from produce distribution to animal behavior. They were using it on humans too, of course. After a few minutes Casey just tuned him out.

Cragen's door opened and Elliot walked out. "Liv's gonna be a few more minutes. She said to get started without her. So, counselor, what do we got?"

Casey stood up straight and the four of them stood in a tight circle. She launched into a list of things she was able to get in and what the defense was able to get thrown out. As usual, one of them blamed her for it. She had long ago stopped taking it personally, and was in the middle of defending herself and the judge's decision when Olivia quietly walked up and stood right behind Casey.

"So, what did I miss?" Olivia asked.

Casey nearly jumped out of her skin. "Jesus-tap dancing-Christ, Olivia, don't sneak up on me like that!"

Olivia chuckled at the ADA's phrase of choice and placed an apologetic hand on her back. "Sorry 'bout that." Casey flinched at Olivia's touch. And at that moment, it was as if a light came on above the four detectives' heads. The warning signs had been right there, but they had been blind to them. It had been such a slow and gradual change that they had not noticed. Now it all clicked. They now saw how much weight their ADA had lost, how her eyes had lost their spark, how she hadn't been as happy as she was when she first started dating William. The odd bruises and scrapes and how she had an explanation for all of them. Everything came together in that moment. Casey continued giving information about their current case, oblivious to their discovery, but the detectives weren't paying attention. They glanced at each other, and then Elliot gave an imperceptible nod to Olivia.

"Casey," she said gently. Casey stopped talking and looked at the detectives in confusion. They were staring at her, concerned, and had clearly not been listening. "Let's go to the conference room so we can talk." Before Casey could ask, Olivia took her by the arm and led her into the room. She locked the door and closed the blinds so they could have some privacy.

Casey half-leaned, half-sat on the edge of the table, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat. Olivia walked around the table, turning on the lamps that were scattered around the room. The lamp light wasn't as harsh as the fluorescent lights, and she knew Casey would feel more comfortable talking this way. It was less formal and more personal.

Casey's heart was pounding and felt like it was in her throat. She tried to slow her breathing and calm down. She had been in this room enough times to know what was going on. Lamp lights were for the victims. She pushed the thought away, refusing to believe her to be in that same category.

"What happened to your lip?" Olivia asked lightly, making her way around the table.

"I tripped last night fell on the coffee table," Casey mumbled into her scarf. Then she looked up. "I'm a walking disaster, huh?" She gave Olivia a smile, hoping to appear calm and natural.

"You've certainly become one ever since you moved in with William," Olivia said, sitting beside her on the table.

Casey started to object, but stopped when she realized she didn't have a believable comeback. Instead she shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and buried her chin in her scarf. It was starting to get hot in the conference room and tiny beads of sweat started to gather around her hairline, but she ignored it.

"Casey, has he been abusing you?" Olivia asked right out. There really was no easy way to ask. Sometimes it was best to treat it like a bandaid. She caught the slightest hesitation before the ADA responded.

The question caught her off guard and immediately put her on the defense. "No, of course not!"

"Then take off your coat and scarf."

"What? No! Why?"

"Just take them off," Olivia said firmly but gently.

"I'm cold." Casey wrapped her arms around herself, as if to prove a point. She couldn't let Olivia know. Nobody could know. William would be furious.

"Then why are you sweating?"

"I-I'm not, it's just…" she trailed off, unable to think of anything. She looked away, pretending to study the notices tacked to the walls.

Olivia placed her hand on Casey's shoulder, and then slid off the table to stand in front of her. "It's okay to tell me. I can help you. We all can. If it is true, we can help. You don't have to do this alone, Casey," she said softly.

Casey's throat started to constrict with the effort of holding back her tears. She slowly turned to face Olivia and began to unbutton her coat and unwind the scarf from around her neck. She set them both behind her on the table. She stared silently at Olivia, her eyes filled with tears. She hated to cry; she felt weak and defeated. Yet a few tiny sobs escaped as she untied the silk scarf from around her neck. Olivia might as well see it all, so she took off her suit coat and closed her eyes.

Tears pricked Olivia's eyes as she observed the bruising on her friend's neck. Her heart went out to the young woman. Casey didn't deserve this. Nobody did. But it was different when it was one of your own. This wasn't a just a victim. This was Casey, part of the team. This was her friend.

Olivia gently ran her fingers over the bruises on Casey's neck. "The good news is it looks like these will fade quickly so you don't have to wear that scarf. You never struck me as a scarf person," she said lightly in a failed attempt to make Casey feel more comfortable. Her hands traveled down Casey's arms, and gently rolled up the sleeves. But the material was too thick and wouldn't push up past her elbows. Olivia knew what she'd find, so she didn't push further. "Anywhere else?"

Casey blinked back tears and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She raised her shirt so Olivia could see the bruises from when he kicked her. "And my back," she whispered inaudibly. Without any prompting, she pulled her shirt over her head but kept her arms in the sleeves, slid off the table, and showed Olivia her back.

It was covered in several small, roundish bruises and there was a thin cut along her back. Olivia guessed that was from glass, but she was at a loss to what the small bruises were from. She brought her hands up to touch Casey's back, but not before giving her fair warning. "I'm sorry if my hands are cold." She placed her hands on Casey's upper back and gently examined the bruises. She counted at least ten fresh ones and several faded ones. Finally she was done, and Casey tugged her shirt back over her head and leaned against the table.

Olivia continued to stand in front of her. "Why did he do this to you?" she asked softly.

All at once Casey's lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. She covered her face and sobbed into her hands. "I – I don't know! I don't know what I did!"

Olivia stepped closer to embrace the sobbing woman. "You didn't do anything. It's him, Casey. Him. Not you," she whispered comfortingly.

"No, it was me. It's always me, it's always something I did or said," Casey pulled back, trying to regain her composure. "I got home around midnight last night and he was already in a pissy mood. And then – god, I don't even remember what I did or said – he just started hitting me."

"Did you try to fight back?"

"Not this time. Whenever I do, I end up getting hurt worse. I've given up trying to fight back."

"Casey, how long has this been going on?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"No, I don't."

"Casey, if you just tell me… You know me, you know what we can do. I can help you get out of there. I –"

"No!"

This was not the response she expected. "What?"

"I can't leave him. He'd be furious. No, I can't. I love him."

"He's hurting you, Casey. You can't go back there."

"But he only hurts me when I deserve it."

Olivia sighed sadly. This ass had Casey terrified of him and at the same time blindly devoted to him. She couldn't allow her to go back there. She had to convince her friend to get out before it got worse. "I promise we'll get you somewhere safe. He'll never find you and he'll never be able to hurt you again. Casey, nobody deserves this. Certainly not you. I can help - we all can."

Casey started to put her clothes back on. "I appreciate your concern, Olivia, I do. But I'll be fine. Really. I can handle this." She picked up her briefcase and started to head for the door. Olivia grabbed her arm. "Ow! Damn it, Olivia, that hurts!"

"Casey, promise me you'll leave him. Think about it. You don't deserve this," she repeated.

She yanked her arm out of Olivia's grasp. "You're right. I deserve much worse."

Before Olivia could retort, Casey had flung open the door and left the squad room.

* * *

Despite her actions, Casey had listened to Olivia, but didn't want to admit it. She really didn't want to go home that night and be subjected to another beating. So she called William and told him she had a ton of paperwork to go through and fill out (which she did), so she'd be staying the night in her office but would see him the following night. He bought it. There was no anger or hostility in William's voice, which made her feel relieved. Maybe last night was the worst of it. Maybe he reached his pinnacle and that was it. Maybe it was all over.

Around eleven that night Casey got a call from the night security guard. She had long ago finished her work and had been laying on her couch for about an hour.

"Your boyfriend is here, he brought flowers. Shall I send him up?"

"Yes, thank you," a slow smile spreading across her face. William always brought her flowers and other gifts when he really felt bad about hurting her. It was his way of apologizing and she always knew he meant it. She quickly unlocked her door, straightened her clothes and hair, and then set about busying herself, making it look like she still had a ton of work to do so he wouldn't be suspicious. If he saw that she had a lot to do, maybe he'd just stay a few minutes and chat before leaving.

She was clearing space on her coffee table for the flowers when William walked in. She realized what his plan was when she turned to face him. Just before it happened images of her first attack flashed in her mind. It had been two years since it happened and this was the first time she could remember any details about it. She couldn't believe she had fallen for the flower ruse again.

Before she could react, he hit her upside the head with the flower vase. She crumbled to the floor, holding her head, disoriented. All the self-defense classes she had taken after her first attack had gone down the drain; she couldn't remember anything. The only thing she could remember was to not try and hit him with anything he could wrestle out of her grip and use to hit her. That really left nothing in her office but her and her fists, which wouldn't amount to much. She was no match for him.

He was moving too fast for her. Once she was on the ground he kicked her down, stomping on her already bruised back and kicking her in the sides. Each blow knocked the wind out of her and when she paused to catch her breath he took the opportunity to kick her again. After several sharp jabs in her side she managed to crawl to the other side of her coffee table. By now she was just trying to protect herself at any cost. She grabbed her small umbrella off the couch and lunged at William, trying to beat him with it. He laughed cruelly and grabbed her arm and twisted the umbrella out of her hand. He kicked her behind the knees and hit her hard across the face as she fell back to the ground. He grabbed her arm and hauled her up, spitting in her face and threw her down again. She smacked her head on her coffee table on the way down and blacked out.

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning when Olivia's cell phone rang, rousing her out of sleep.

"Benson," she answered groggily. It didn't matter how many times she was woken up in the middle of the night, she could never get rid of the "you just woke me up" voice.

"Olivia, it's Captain Cragen. I need you to go meet Elliot at Mercy right away."

She was already out of bed and throwing on clothes. "Rape victim?"

"Yes."

"Anything specific I need to know?"

"Yes," Cragen paused. "It's Casey."


	4. Flowers

Publish date: 4/2/13  
Note: I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but after several re-writes and edits this is it. Hope you enjoy anyway! Feedback is always appreciated. :)

Olivia made it to the hospital in record time – before Casey even arrived. She paced frantically by the emergency room front desk. After only a few minutes of waiting, Casey was wheeled in. Olivia flashed her badge for the doctors and followed them into an examination room. They did a quick assessment of her injuries, talking in hushed voices in medical jargon.

"I don't mean to step on your toes, Doctors, but I was hoping we could do the rape kit while she was still unconscious. I don't think –" Olivia broke off as one of the doctors – Dr. Collins – put a reassuring hand on her arm.

"We were planning on it, Detective. After what she's been through, the last thing she needs is to be awake while being poked and prodded some more," she said.

Olivia gave her a grateful smile and stood back while the other doctors left the room. Then she assisted as Dr. Collins performed the rape kit, half worried that Casey would wake up at any minute. But she had been given a sedative to keep her out while they ran all the tests. She tried not to envision what Casey had just been through, but it was hard. She looked so broken.

"Detective? Detective Benson?" Dr. Collins called, bringing Olivia back. "Is everything alright?"

Olivia was embarrassed to feel her eyes filling with tears. She pushed them away and cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm fine." At the doctor's skeptical look, she continued. "Casey is one of my friends and co-workers. Well, she's not a detective, but she's the ADA for our team. It's just…weird that this happened to her. In our line of work, we never really think this can happen to us. Kind of makes you realize you aren't invincible, no matter what you do, you know?"

"I understand. One of my friends is a cardiologist and he had to have open-heart surgery a year or two ago." Dr. Collins continued to work in silence until she was finished. "Okay, we'll send her to get a CT-scan to check for concussions. It looks like she has a couple of broken ribs. You can wait in the waiting room; I'll let the doctor know to talk to you when she's been moved to a room."

"Thank you, Dr. Collins," Olivia said as the doctor hurried out of the room. She stayed by Casey's side until a few nurses came in and carted her off to get scanned and x-rayed. Olivia slowly walked to the waiting room and was relieved to find Elliot sitting in one of the chairs. He stood as she walked in and embraced her as she started to cry. He maneuvered them over to two chairs in the back corner. Olivia leaned over, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, while Elliot rubbed her back.

"It's my fault, El," she mumbled into her hands.

"Olivia, you know damn well it isn't your fault. You didn't tell William to go attack her."

"But I didn't convince her to not go home."

"She didn't. She was attacked in her office."

Olivia sat up. "Again?" she asked, surprised. Cragen hadn't given her any details on the phone, only which hospital to go to. She had assumed, since he didn't say otherwise, Casey had been attacked at home.

"Again. The flower trick again, too. I'm starting to think nobody should be allowed to take flowers to anyone at the courthouse."

"Well, you obviously know more than me, so fill me in. We are working this case, right?"

"Yes. Cragen might pull us if it gets too personal, or if Casey doesn't want us to be a part of it."

"She will."

"I don't know, Liv. Would you want her working your case if your roles were reversed?"

"Yes, because I know she'd work her ass off especially hard to get that ass bastard thrown in jail."

"Okay, well, we'll have to see. Anyway. She was attacked at her office. The night guard said William came by around eleven with flowers. I can imagine Casey thought they were apology flowers. We don't know when she was raped – before, during, or after the beating. John and Fin went to their apartment but apparently the jackass took off. Packed a bag and everything. Said the apartment looked spotless, like he knew what he was doing. We have a uniform there in case he comes back, but I don't think he's going to do that any time soon. He's got to know we're after him."

"How did they find her?"

"Custodian found her shortly after midnight. Called us right away."

Olivia leaned into him – as best she could with the armrest in the way – and rested her head on his shoulder. "Why did this have to happen to her?" she hated that Casey was going through this and would give anything to take it all away.

"Because that jackass boyfriend – if you could even call him that – thinks he can treat women however he wants."

"It isn't fair. Casey doesn't deserve this," she said softly.

"I know." They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Elliot realized his partner had fallen asleep. He got as comfortable as he could and dozed until the doctor returned. When he walked in, Elliot shook Olivia awake and they stood.

"Hello Detectives, I'm Doctor Grey. Miss Novak has appeared to have suffered a pretty severe concussion. From what we gathered, she hit her head on the edge of a table, in addition to being hit several times in the head. She woke up on the ride over here, but was very disoriented. She probably won't remember much about the attack, and maybe nothing about what she did during the day. Don't pressure her to remember, let it come back to her naturally. Does she have any family members close by?"

The detectives shook their heads. "Her mom died when she was young, and she and her father are estranged. They haven't spoken in at least ten years," Elliot said. "I think she's listed us as her medical contacts."

The doctor nodded. "The results from the rape kit haven't come back yet, but as I'm sure you noticed there was vaginal bruising and some bruises around her thighs. They're running DNA tests right now. We should have those results in a few days."

"Why bother? We know who it was," Elliot said angrily. Olivia put a hand on his arm.

"You know you can't jump to conclusions, even if you are certain who it is," Dr. Grey chastised. "Anyway, she has a couple of cracked ribs – likely from being hit or kicked – and her upper body is pretty beat up and bruised, especially her face, and it will take several days for the bruises to go away. We want to keep her here for a day or two, keep an eye on her. She has been undernourished and we want to keep her on an IV to get her strength back."

"That bastard was starving her! No wonder she'd never meet us for lunch," Olivia fumed. There were countless times they'd asked Casey to join them for lunch, but she'd always decline. She was either too busy or having lunch with William. Olivia guessed he wouldn't let her eat much, if at all. Unfortunately, too late, she saw what a tight leash that man had on their ADA, and how dangerous he was. "When can we see her?"

"She's being admitted to a room right now, and you can go see her once she's settled. She's still unconscious, but the meds will be wearing off soon."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," Elliot said as the doctor nodded and left. He turned his attention back to Olivia. "I'll call Cragen after we see her, and ask about putting a uniform outside her room. In case the bastard tries to make a hospital visit. I'm not taking any chances he can harm her again."

Olivia nodded in agreement and they walked in silence to Casey's room. They waited outside until the nurses left, and then walked in. If it were possible, Casey looked even worse than she did when she was first brought in. The bruises on her face had already deepened. They were all around her hairline, both eyes, her nose, her mouth. She had other bruises on her arms, neck, and shoulders. The detectives could only imagine the bruises under the hospital gown.

"How could anyone do something like this?" Olivia asked, tears springing to her eyes. Elliot wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She covered his hand with her own and leaned against him. "I almost don't want her to wake up. She's going to be in so much pain, Elliot. I wish there was something we could do."

"The only thing we can do is to support her and nail this bastard to the wall. And if I had my way I'd put a few bullets in him." They stood there in silence for a few minutes. "I'm going to the waiting room."

"What? Why?"

"I think she would feel more comfortable if it was just you when she woke up. I can come in later if she is up to it."

Olivia nodded. "I'll talk to her, and then I'll come let you know how she's doing."

"Okay." Elliot stopped at the door. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be detective when you're in there. That's not what she needs right now. She needs a friend."

"I know."

"Okay then. I'll see you in a bit."

Once she was alone in the room, Olivia pulled up a chair beside Casey's bed and waited.


	5. Name

It took nearly an hour for the meds to wear off. During that time, Olivia dozed, resting her head on the hospital bed. She felt Casey stir and she snapped up, wide awake. Casey was twisting around, trying to shake off the sleep and medication. Finally she stopped moving and took a deep breath, opening her eyes slowly.

"Hey," Olivia said softly.

"Hey," Casey replied, confused. She looked around and attempted to sit up, but every inch of her body hurt, so she lay back down. "What am I doing here?"

"Do you remember anything?"

Casey shook her head. She glanced down and saw the IV in her hand and gasped. She brought her free hand to her face and touched the bruises. With a rush of adrenaline she sat up straight, only to double over from the pain. She clutched her stomach and choked back a sob. Olivia stood and gently pushed Casey back against the pillows. "What happened to me? Why am I here?" she stuttered, almost unable to get the words out. Before Olivia could even respond her eyes filled with tears.

Olivia took Casey's hand in her own. "You were attacked in your office, Casey."

"I was? Again?" she asked incredulously.

Olivia nodded. "Casey," she began, unsure of how to continue. Casey needed to know what happened, and there was no easy way to say it. It was much harder to break the news to someone she knew and cared about. "Casey, whoever it was… he did more than hit you. He raped you."

Casey pulled her hand out from Olivia's grip and brought it to her face, dazed. After a few moments, she sat up again, clearly still in pain, and tried to move off the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to go home. If William finds out, I'll be in so much trouble. He's already angry at me."

Olivia realized Casey either knew it was William and didn't want to admit it, or she honestly didn't know. She gently pushed her back in bed. Casey tried to protest, but she was too weak and in too much pain. "Olivia, I have to get home. I need to get home. William doesn't like it when I'm out so late. And after he hears what happened he'll think I'm seeing someone else. He can't know, Olivia. Promise me you won't tell him!"

This was the part of the job that would be difficult. She now saw what Cragen was worried about. How could she stay professional and still be a friend? Olivia shut the door to the room and sat down, taking Casey's hand again. "Do you know who did this to you?"

Casey rolled her eyes and turned her face away from Olivia, crossing her arms. If she pretended to be apathetic, she wouldn't have to answer. If at all possible she wanted to avoid this question, the eventual explanation.

"I think you do," she said, her voice full of concern.

Casey shook her head violently as a few tears escaped down her cheeks.

Olivia moved up the bed and stroked the side of Casey's face. "It's okay to tell me, Casey. I promise he won't hurt you. I promise you're safe."

"I can't." Her voice sounded weak and pathetic to her ears. She closed her eyes tightly and wished fervently for everything in the room to just disappear.

"Casey, he's hurt you so badly. Do you want him to keep treating you like this?"

"But he always says he's sorry!"

"Sweetie, he may say it, but that doesn't mean he means it. Sorry doesn't always fix things. Sorry doesn't change what he did to you. Tell me, what makes it okay for someone to treat anyone like this?"

Without warning, she exploded. "I deserve it! All of it!"

"What have you done to deserve this?"

"Everything! My job. My life. Everything."

"I don't understand. What have you done that makes it okay for him to nearly kill you?"

"I've put away innocent people. I know I have. I've also protected criminals. Do I need to go on?"

"Casey, you know those things aren't your fault. It is part of your job. And you know that those things doesn't make it okay to hurt you. You know that."

"I've gotten away with too many bad things in life. This is payback. Karma."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes! I deserve it!"

"You deserve to be raped."

"How do you know it wasn't consensual?" she shot back.

"He hurt you Casey-"

"How do you know it wasn't just rough sex?"

"This isn't rough sex, Casey! He had sex with you while you were unconscious! He broke a few ribs, given you countless painful bruises. He put you in the hospital! Nobody – and I repeat, nobody – should EVER be treated like that. Ever. Not for any reason. Nobody would ever want to hurt someone he loved such as he's hurt you. Those thoughts wouldn't even cross his mind."

"He wasn't hurting me, he was punishing me!"

"Casey," Olivia began.

"No! He was, and there's a difference!"

"Tell me."

"Abuse is when it isn't deserved, punishment is when it is."

"Did you have to fend off your attacker?"

"What?"

"Did you have to fend off your attacker? Protect yourself?"

"…yes."

"If you had to fight for yourself – for your life – how can that possibly be deserved?"

Casey didn't have an answer for that.

"Casey, I need his name. I need you to say his name. We can't go after him without it."

Casey was silent for a few seconds. "I – I can't."

"Why are you trying to protect him!"

"You wouldn't understand!" How could she put into words the deep terror the thought of him being arrested invoked. She knew better than anyone that rape cases don't always make it to court, that rape kits are locked away and forgotten, and perpetrators get off free. If William was arrested and could charm the jury, as he seemed to charm everyone, and was not charged, she would probably be killed. The fear of that possibility loomed over her head and prevented her from saying anything, even though she knew she should. She did not want her friend to think her so weak.

"You're right, I don't. So help me understand."

"I'm trying!" she yelled, exasperated. "I don't know how else to do it!"

"Okay, okay," Olivia said, holding up a hand, trying to calm her down. She was quiet for a moment. She went to the counter where she set her purse and came back, sitting again on the bed.

Casey looked wearily at the object in Olivia's hand. "What is that?"

Silently, Olivia held up a compact mirror. Casey saw her reflection in it and looked away. That couldn't be what she looked like. The person she saw in the reflection couldn't possibly be her. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach and turned to the side of the bed and started to dry heave. Olivia went around to the other side of the bed and pushed her back up, holding the trashcan up in case there was anything in her system. "Breathe, sweetie," she said quietly when Casey couldn't catch her breath. When she calmed down, Olivia handed her a cup of water.

"It's that bad?" she finally said.

"Yes," Olivia said honestly.

"Let me see," she said, reaching out for the mirror. She studied herself intently, tracing all her bruises. "I bet you can't tell how pale I am now, huh?" she said, trying to joke, but then everything seemed to have hit her with full force. She dropped the mirror and it slid off the bed, clattering to the floor. "It was William! William Colton!" she sobbed, barely getting the words out. She clutched her sides and had to force herself to calm down. Her rib injuries made it painful to take deep breaths – it hurt even more to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt Olivia gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Olivia, please don't touch me. I can't handle it. I can't cry, it hurts too much." She took a few deep breaths. "I'd like to be alone for a while," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"Okay. I understand. I'll be back later."

* * *

Elliot was standing against a wall when she walked into the waiting room. "Well?"

"She identified William as her attacker."

Elliot nodded and whipped out his phone. "I need a warrant for William Colton," he said, giving the attorney on the other line the details. Then he called Fin. "Warrant is on its way. Pick him up as soon as you get it." He snapped his phone closed, dropping it into his jacket pocket. "How is she?" he asked.

"She'll make it. Her face – god, Elliot. That bastard really did a number on her. Have you talked to the doctor again?"

"Yeah. He wants to keep her here for a couple of days. He said the rib fractures aren't too severe and they'll probably pain her a bit and then become annoying. He's treated Casey before and he knows she's a trooper." He took her by the arm and led her to a chair. They sat in a corner, leaning on their knees, heads together.

"But how many times has he treated her for rape? This is different from every other time she's been in here. I don't think she's going to bounce back that fast."

"I know that, Liv. But Casey isn't the type of person to take things lying down. She'll be the one up there prosecuting his ass."

"I don't think I agree with you on that one. El, she's terrified of him, do you know that? She was lying in that bed, broken bones and a black and blue face, and she's worried that he'll be angry at her. Not because the police is involved, but because she'd be late getting home. That guy has some hold on her, and it's not going to be easy to get her to see him otherwise. I'm worried about her."

"We all are."

"No, I mean, I'm worried he's going to hurt her again. Just today – well, yesterday – she came to work with bruises – ones she had a hard time covering up. He came back and hurt her again. We don't need Huang here to know he'll be back for more."

"But he has to know we're looking for him. He's probably gone into hiding for now."

"He's sneaky. The police and media probably don't faze him. I mean - he was doing this to Casey knowing full well who she worked for and her line of work. What he's been doing has gradually gotten worse and worse. I'm afraid he's going to go too far next time. I don't want there to be a next time."

"So what do we do, put her in a safe house?"

"Well, yes."

"Liv, I don't know…"

"Why not? We've done it for other rape victims. Why not for one of us? Hell, it doesn't even have to be a hotel. She can stay at my apartment. He's never met me and my address is unlisted. We can take shifts, just like any other safe house." Olivia waited for a response. "Come on, El. Wouldn't you do this for me?"

"I wouldn't have let you go out with someone like that." He ran his hand over his head. "How could we have not seen the signs?"

"Elliot, you can't save everyone."

"No, I could have said something. Times when I thought he might be hurting her. I could have said something. But I didn't. I never did. I believed what she told me."

"I think we were all in that position."

"I guess I thought Casey wouldn't make decisions like that. She'd know to get out of an abusive relationship. God, we work with women in abusive relationships. You think we'd be able to see when it happens close to home. God, if I ever lay my eyes on that son of a bitch..." he said, trailing off.

"Elliot. Promise me you won't hurt him."

"I won't. Not too bad, at least. I'll just rip off his dick, balls, and head, and then I'll leave him alone."

Olivia shook her head. "That is not very comforting, El. Anyway, there's nothing we can do by beating ourselves up over it. Let's go talk to Cragen and stop by Casey's office to see what the CSU guys found. We can give Casey some space and then once we are done come back to check on her."

Elliot nodded and the two detectives left the hospital.


	6. Discoveries

The CSU techs were hard at work when they arrived, a box of bagged evidence sitting in the doorway. O'Halloran was labeling a bag when they walked in.

"What have we got?" Elliot asked.

"Casey put up one hell of a fight. Poor girl, she must be banged up pretty good." He handed them orange glasses and nodded for one of the other techs to hit the lights. He shone the ALS over an area on the ground. "This area tested positive for bodily fluids. We sent that back already with one of the techs to start running it now. They're already working on the DNA from the rape kit. It may take several hours to get a hit, but it'll be a lot easier if it matches what is in the rape kit." O'Halloran flipped back on the lights. "Here's what we think happened. She answers her door and he hits her with the flowers. She falls and he tosses the flowers aside, over there," he said, gesturing to the left, to a pile of glass and wilted flowers marked with a yellow 5. "Judging from the scuff marks here, it looks like he kicked her several times as she crawled over to the couch. I'm assuming that's where the umbrella was and she tried to use it to defend herself. Or maybe she used the couch to pull herself up and she tried to escape, but he grabbed the umbrella off her desk and hit her with it. Either way, he hits her with it. There is a bit of blood on the handle. She falls and hits her head on the table and blacks out, here. This is where he raped her. We've dusted for prints on the larger shards of glass from the vase, the door, and the umbrella. All sent to the lab."

"Thanks, man," Elliott said, nodding to the techs before hastily leaving. He nearly knocked over one of the new kids on his way out and Olivia had to run to catch up with him. He paused around the corner, leaning against a wall. "That bastard." He managed to spit out, hitting the wall.

Olivia's cell rang and she answered it, stepping away. "Benson."

"Liv, William isn't here," Munch said.

"What?!"

"He isn't here," he repeated. "And it looks like he left in a hurry, too." Munch looked around at the ransacked yet spotless apartment. A few tables were upturned and chairs knocked over. It looked like a rug may have been removed and the furniture pushed away. Picture frames were scattered about, all missing their photos. Sheets and towels were gone, along with all toiletries. Nearly all of his clothes were gone, with the exception of several sets of suits still wrapped in plastic from the dry cleaners. Even the sofa and chair cushions were gone. The dishwasher was running and a mop and bottle of bleach sat in the middle of the kitchen. No groceries in the fridge or the pantry and there was no sign of a vacuum. "This guy knew what he was doing."

"But there's always room for error," Fin added loud enough for Liv to hear.

"Thanks, Munch. Elliott and I are going to go back to the station and file a report. Let us know if you find anything."

"Sure thing, Liv." Munch hung up and pocketed his phone. "Okay, what did he miss?" He wondered aloud, looking around the apartment.

"The books on the shelves? What about picture frames? TV remote? Maybe some glasses that didn't get washed but were put away anyway? He left in a hurry, he couldn't have covered everything."

"Unless he's been planning this for awhile. Casey got attacked the night before last. She went to work yesterday, to her office, and got attacked again there. He potentially had all day yesterday to do cleanup duty."

"Or he didn't plan ahead and it was a spur of the moment thing."

"It was too calculated to be a spur of the moment thing."

"Detectives?" Cameron, one of the techs, said, interrupting. The two men looked at him. "We were able to lift some prints off some things we think he forgot to clean: one on the alarm button, one on the toilet flusher, and one on one of the paper-covered hangers in his closet in his bedroom. As soon as we get back to the lab we'll do a visual match on the prints with what was found at Casey's office and run it through AFIS as well."

"Thanks, Cam," Fin said. He turned back to Munch. "I don't think it was planned."

"He certainly got a lot of shit out of the apartment in just a couple of hours. We got the call at, what, twelve thirty? One? It's now four. That's a lot of work in four hours."

"What if there was an accomplice?"

"Casey never mentioned any of his friends to us."

"Casey never mentioned he was hitting her, either."

"Okay, so maybe there is an accomplice. Maybe that person started the cleanup while William went to see Casey. If it were someone else, maybe they were sloppy."

"Like taking out the trash?"

"And putting it in the closest dumpster, instead of an inconspicuous one farther away," Munch said, walking to the window. There were three dumpsters in the alleyway. "I bet one of these has our magical missing bags of trash." He turned back to face Fin. "But then, if he was working alone, maybe it is in one of the hundreds of dumpsters in a mile radius."

"Or maybe if he was working alone, he just dumped it in the closest one anyway."

"Well, let's stop all this maybe shit and go down there and check. Cam, dust the glasses and plates that weren't in the dishwasher. Let's see if he put anything back without washing it first."

Cam nodded and started dusting.

Down in the alley, Munch and Fin pulled out trash bags out of dumpsters. After going through a several bags, Fin found one filled with clothes. Munch found one with cans and packages of food. "Looks like it came from our girl's apartment!"

They hauled the bags up to Cameron and his team, who started to sort through it and tag it.

"That seemed too easy," Munch commented as they left.

"Maybe because it was last minute!" Fin retorted. The two partners bickered all the way back to the station.

* * *

Elliott went back to the station to start paperwork and to be around for when the test results came back. Olivia went to the hospital to sit with Casey, who was asleep. In just a few hours the bruises around her eyes deepened to black and the large bruise on the side of her head looked very painful. Olivia's heart broke for Casey, for what she had been going through quietly for the past six months. She sat there for awhile, watching Casey sleep, trying to fight off sleep herself so she would be alert when Casey woke up. Finally, she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and she rested her head on the side of the bed, telling herself she'd just close her eyes for a few minutes. She woke up a few hours later when a nurse came to check on Casey and change her IV bag. Olivia hastily wiped the sleep from her eyes and returned to her position when the nurse left. Casey looked out at her from her very dark and swollen eyes.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Olivia asked gently.

"You need sleep, too," Casey replied.

"How are you doing?"

"I hurt. A lot. Everywhere – from my physical injuries to my heart. I loved him, Liv, I really did. When he was kind, he was so loving, so tender. I loved him so much when he was like that."

Olivia reached over and took her hand. "I know, sweetie. I'm so sorry."

"I just kept telling myself that he'd change, you know, that I'd be able to do something that would make him change, but nothing worked. I tried so hard to make him love me that I lost myself. And it took this," she said, gesturing to her broken body. "To make me realize that it wasn't love, it wasn't what I wanted or needed, no matter how badly I tried to convince myself that I wanted it. And I really, really hate myself for that." She paused, swallowing a sob that was creeping up her throat. "I should have seen it, Liv. The first time he hit me, I should have been out of there. I've always said that if a guy hit me, I'd be done, finished, but it's so much easier to say it than to experience it. But I should have listened to myself. I should have been stronger. I should have been able to walk out."

"Casey, you are strong. But sometimes – sometimes love can make us do strange things, like stay with someone who hurts us, or any number of other crimes we come across every week. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much training we have; sometimes our heart takes over or we lose our sense of judgment because we want everything to remain perfect."

"I just wish it didn't hurt so much. He was special, Liv, even if you guys don't see it. I think he really did love me."

"Casey," Olivia began.

"No, Liv. I really think he did. We had some really great moments. Please just let me have them."

Olivia nodded. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke, reaching into her pocket for a notepad and a pen. "Casey, I need to ask you some questions, okay? Related to your case. I need to be a detective now, okay?"

Casey sighed. She knew it was coming; it was unavoidable. Talking to Liv just now, just as friends, had helped give her heart some peace. The next questions had to be more detached, not as personal yet still personal, and between detective and victim. But if anyone had to question her, Casey was glad it was someone from her team. "Okay."

"Did William ever introduce you to any of his friends?"

"No, not really."

"I need you to be more specific."

"We didn't go out much. Breakfast was always in the kitchen. Lunch on work days rotated between working lunches in my office, with you guys, or with him. Dinner was in the kitchen except for Fridays and some Sundays, where we would go to a restaurant of his choice and with his friends."

"And his friends were?"

"Almost never the same people. Normally they were clients or work acquaintances. We did have dinner a few times with a guy named Robert – or maybe Robin – and his wife. Milkovich, I think. I remember thinking it sounded a lot like John Malcovich. I think his wife's name was Karen. William said they were college buddies."

"Where did he go to college?"

"Dartmouth. Class of 93."

"What did you think of Robert and Karen?"

"They seemed nice. Rob and William would talk about work and Karen would tell me about all the places she'd traveled. She asked me once about what I did, and I only talked about it for a few minutes before I got cut off. I never really talked much when we went out. She seemed kind of snobby but Rob was all right."

"Do you think they're good enough friends to let him stay with them right now?"

"I – I have no idea. William always seemed so independent, with so few friends. Aside from me, he seemed to know how to handle problems on his own without any help from anybody. My guess would be that he's gone wait where is he?" Casey's stream of consciousness flew out in one fluid sentence.

"When Munch and Fin went to your apartment, they found it empty of nearly everything that could give him away. Dirty clothes and all the food were tossed. He mopped and bleached everything and took the vacuum with him. The techs were able to find some prints, and Munch and Fin found bags of stuff in the dumpsters in the alley. We think he cleaned up in a hurry and then went to a friends to hide."

Casey's eyes went wide. "He's gone? Everything in the apartment is gone?"

"All of his stuff, or apparently things he's touched."

Casey stared at the foot of her bed. "No. I don't think he went to Rob and Karen's. If he went anywhere, he probably went some place quiet and still, with few people. Central Park, by one of the ponds."

"Okay, Casey. I'm going to go back to the station with this info and see if we can pay a visit to the Milkoviches. Elliott's running a background check on William right now. We've got a guard stationed outside your room. If William even tries to come within thirty city blocks of here, he'll get picked up. I'll come back tonight, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded. She didn't want Olivia to leave. She relished the company, the kind words and touches offered after so many months of abuse. She wished that someone else could sit with her, but she understood that she couldn't expect the team to sit in with her on rotation.

* * *

"Are you sure? Can you check the records again? Maybe he went by a different first name?" Elliott asked. He waited while the secretary from Dartmouth tried something new. "No Coltons at all? Could you try spelling it with a K? What about five years on either side of 1993?" He waited again. "Nothing? What about a Robert or Robin Milkovich? Yes, also class of 1993." Olivia walked over with a file and tapped it in her hand a few times. Elliott waved at her in acknowledgement and she sat down at her desk, flipping through it. "Yes? You have a Robert Milkovich? Great. Do you have a forwarding address for him? Yeah, I'm ready." Elliott wrote down the address on a piece of paper. "Thanks for your help." Elliott hung up the phone and waved the paper in the air. "Liv, we got an address. William never attended Dartmouth. We'll need to ask Robert how they met, and why they lied about how they met. Come on." He shrugged on his jacket and the two detectives were out the door.

Thirty minutes later they pulled up along a block of very nice brownstones. They found the correct house and knocked on the door. "Mr. Milkovich, it's the NYPD. We'd like to talk to you!" Elliott called through the door. Olivia stayed on the ground and looked up at the windows, looking for any sign of life. There was nothing. They looked around the perimeter of the house and found nothing.

"Are you looking for Mr. and Mrs. Milkovich?" a young girl asked, walking three small dogs. "I saw you walking around and stuff. I live two doors down. Sometimes I house sit for them. They have two dogs and a cat."

"Are you house sitting for them now?" Olivia asked

"No, these are my dogs. The Milkoviches are in town. Probably at work."

"Do you know where they work?"

"Yeah. Mr. Milkovich is like a top sales person for a medical company. He gets to go on all these fancy trips because of it. I house sit when they're gone. Mrs. Milkovich does sales too, I think. Or something in sales."

"Do they have offices?"

"Uh, yeah. Mr. Milk is at MedPro and Mrs. Milk is at… Converge Computers. Or maybe it's Concave Computers. I don't know where their offices are. They have two offices in their house, but I don't think they use them."

"Thank you…"

"Natalie Bass."

"Thank you, Natalie. Here's our card."

"Your card? Is something wrong?"

"Just trying to figure out some things. We were hoping they could give us some answers."

"Oh okay. Well, good luck."

The detectives hopped back in the car and headed over to MedPro. Milkovich wasn't there, and hadn't been all day. The secretary said he's only in the office two to three days of the week and he never tells them which days. They left their cards and headed over to Concave Computers. They didn't strike out this time and found Karen in her office.

"Hello, Detectives, how may I help you?" she asked.

"Mrs. Milkovich, do you recognize this woman?" Olivia asked, flashing Casey's picture.

"Oh yeah, that's Casey, William's little girlfriend."

"How well do you know her?"

"Not very well at all. My husband and I have dinner with them twice a month."

"You two didn't talk at these dinners?"

"Well, sure we did. But it wasn't anything personal. We talked about travels and our jobs, but that's really it. The men were the ones that really carried the conversation, we really just listened."

"How well do you know William?" Elliott asked.

"Just a little better than I know Casey. William and Rob go way back to college. We've lived here for three years and only found out about a year ago that William was here too, so we set up little monthly dinners. I'd never met William before that first dinner."

"He wasn't at your wedding?"

"No, Rob and I had a small wedding with our immediate families. We saved our money for an extravagant honeymoon."

"Didn't you find it odd that the first time you heard of William was only a year ago?"

"No, detective. Just because my husband doesn't gush about his college friends all the time doesn't make it odd. They've communicated through emails and letters and I'm sure phone calls. Just like I have friends from college that I don't talk about constantly, if I found out they lived close I'd try to reconnect, too."

"Mrs. Milkovich, are you aware that Dartmouth has no record of anyone with the last name Colton in a ten-year span, including your husband's graduation year?"

The shock on Karen's face was genuine. She sat down at her chair, staring at the floor. "Are you sure? Was it spelled correctly?"

"We're sure. How did your husband meet William?"

"He told me at college. Why would I suspect different?"

"Would you offer your home to William, no questions asked?"

"Sure, we welcome many people into our home. William would be no different."

"Is he there now?"

"What is going on?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

"William attacked Casey last night, put her in the hospital. Our team went over to check out his apartment and found it empty of nearly all traces of usable evidence. We think your husband might be letting him stay with you."

"No, he's not there. At least, not that I know of."

"Where is your husband today, Mrs. Milkovich?"

"With clients on Long Island. He should be back tonight."

"Will you let us know when he gets in?"

"Of course. And if William is at our house, I'll call you."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Milkovich," Olivia said.

"Karen, please. You're welcome. Casey is a sweet kid. Now that I think of it, she never really did say anything at our dinners. The first time she said anything was when we asked what she did, and after that she barely said another word. Do you think, even that long ago, William was hurting her?"

"It's possible. We'll be in touch," Elliott said, taking Olivia by the elbow and leading her out. On the way out Elliott called the lab and asked about the results. Still in progress, they should have an answer by morning. "Let's swing by the hospital. See how Casey is doing."


	7. Taken

A/N: Thanks so far for reading, everyone. I hope you are enjoying it!

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital, they found Casey sitting in a chair outside her room, clothed and with a bag at her feet.

"What the hell is going on?" Elliott asked, his fiery blue eyes searching for a nurse or doctor.

"Elliott, wait," Casey said softly. "I spoke with the doctor after you left, Liv. He checked me out and ran some tests and said I was okay to be discharged. I didn't want to stay here by myself any longer."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah. I'm sore, of course, but I'd rather heal in my own bed than a hospital one. What?" Casey asked, catching the glance exchanged between the detectives.

"Casey, you can't go back to your apartment. It's part of a crime scene."

"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked, slightly panicked. She hadn't thought about that.

"A safe house. We can get you set up, just give us an hour or two," Elliott said.

"A safe house? No, that's not necessary. Just – just stick me in a hotel or something. I'll be fine."

"Casey," he began.

"No. There's no use arguing."

"There she is," Elliott said, smiling despite the situation. Casey couldn't help but crack a smile, too. "Okay then. We'll put you in a hotel until we find William and until we find a new place for you. That better?"

"Much."

They helped Casey stand and shuffle out of the hospital. She was stubborn and refused to be wheeled out in a wheelchair, despite the doctors' and nurses' insistance. An hour later they booked her a room at one of the hotels. "Okay, Liv will take the first shift. I'll be back in the morning to relieve her, then Fin will be here tomorrow evening and Munch the next morning."

"That's not necessary, guys."

"Casey, this is not up for discussion. William may find you and hurt you again."

"Elliott, William doesn't know where I am right now. He only came to my office because he knew I'd be there. I'm fine by myself."

"No. One of us will be with you all the time. We aren't taking any risks."

Casey rolled her eyes but realized it was pointless to argue. "Fine."

"Okay then, that's settled. You two okay? Got everything you need?"

"I think we'll be fine, El," Olivia said, pushing him toward the door. Once he was gone she secured the door and sat down on one of the beds. Casey was standing at the window, arms crossed protectively at her chest. "How are you holding up?"

She turned to face Olivia and leaned against the window. She just shrugged, unable to speak. If she was going to be honest, she wasn't holding up at all. She was holding on by very frayed threads. How could she be okay when her life turned upside down, that the person she cared about took advantage of her. That she was just now accepting the fact that she had been a victim of abuse. Victim. She never thought she would be one. Especially not after Charlie. She struggled for a few seconds to find her voice. "I'm fine," she finally managed.

"Really?"

Casey slowly walked over and sat on the bed next to Olivia. "How do I look?"

"I can think of a hundred different words, Case, and none of them would come close to fine."

"Good answer," she said, giving her a tiny half smile. "You know what the hardest part of all this is?" Olivia shook her head. "Despite the fact that he attacked me, and despite the fact he's been hurting me for months – my heart is still breaking. It's foolish, I know, but it still hurts." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's not foolish. You gave him your heart and he deceived you. It's okay that your heart is breaking. Even if he's hurt you."

"Thanks, Liv. I think I'm going to shower and head to bed."

"Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten at all today."

Casey patted her arm, where the IV had been inserted. "They were giving me fluids earlier."

"But not since you busted out of the hospital. That was, what, one? It's nearly nine now. You must be starving."

Casey looked away, ashamed. "William didn't always let me eat dinner, or not much of one, anyway. I kind of got used to it so I'm not really hungry at dinner anymore."

"You need to eat something. Start you out with something small and light? How about soup and toast?"

"That sounds nice. Thanks, Liv."

"I'll order room service. Maybe even some ice cream," she added, winking at Casey.

Thirty minutes later, room service arrived with their food and, true to her word, ice cream. They sat on their respective beds as they ate.

"I feel like I'm in middle school again, at a sleepover," Casey said, halfway through her ice cream. "This is good. Thank you for making me eat something."

"I never went to a sleepover as a kid," Olivia said.

"Really?"

"It was hard when my mom wasn't very reliable. I'm sure I was invited to some, I just never got to go."

"I'm not talking about parties. Didn't you ever have friends spend the night, or spend the night at a friend's?"

"Well, yes, but not really of my own volition. If I spent the night out, it was usually because my mom was too drunk or MIA, and it wasn't always a friend's house, but an unwilling neighbor. Or friends that stayed over usually had to go home because my mom's antics scared them too much."

"I'm sorry, Liv."

"Don't be. I don't think I missed out on much. I wasn't really ever the type to braid each other's hair," she said, smiling.

Casey laughed as she tried to imagine a ten-year-old Olivia, dressed in a pink fuzzy nightgown with animal slippers, sitting in a circle of other girls, all braiding each other's hair. She set her bowl on the side table and got under the covers. "I'm going to have to slowly work up to eating normal meals. I'm already full. And tired. Good night, Liv. Thank you for staying with me tonight."

"Good night, Casey. Anytime." Olivia settled back against the bed and got as comfortable as she could for the night ahead. She listened for several minutes as Casey's breathing evened out. She went to the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth, then paced in front of the window. She wished that DNA results came back as fast as they do on shows like CSI; she couldn't wait to get the evidence that would nail this bastard to the wall. She would gladly castrate him with a rusty spoon if given the opportunity. O'Halloran said they should have the results by morning, and that couldn't happen soon enough.

She sat at the small table and pulled the hotel's pad of paper and pen toward her. She listed traits and habits of criminals similar to William that they had put away in the past several months, hoping to latch onto a possible pattern that might lead her to him. That didn't help at all. There was the possibility that he was staying with the Milkoviches, but she would have heard by now if he was spotted there. Elliot had made contact with Robert and he said William had gone by a different last name while they were at Dartmouth. Something about taking his mom's maiden name when his parents went through a divorce. Something still seemed shady. She hated that he was still out there.

"Where are you," she asked, staring out the window. She rubbed her temples, fighting off sleep. She walked around some more, splashed her face with cold water, and snacked on left over French fries and the packets of crackers from Casey's soup. Shortly after midnight Olivia fell asleep, sitting at the table.

She awoke a couple of hours later to the sound of her door opening. It took her a few precious seconds to realize that Casey was not leaving the room, but that someone was entering it. She leapt over to the bed and grabbed her gun and swung her body around, aiming at the door, which had now swept shut. She quickly turned on the bedside lamp and only barely glimpsed as Casey awoke, startled, before she was hit in the head. She heard Casey scream, and as hard as she tried to stay conscious, Olivia blacked out.

When she came to later, she noticed that Casey was gone. She called Elliott right away as she checked the bathroom and under the beds. Casey's pajamas were tossed on the floor. Her overnight bag was on the bed, empty, her change of clothes missing. Her makeup was littered all over the bed.

She tried to keep the trembling out of her voice as she spoke. "Elliott, the bastard got her."


	8. Search

Note: Sorry for the delay in posting. I just started rehearsals for a show I'm in which has eaten up my evenings.

* * *

Olivia was sitting in the hallway with her head in her hands when Elliott arrived. The CSU team filed in as Elliott knelt down next to her. She waited until they were inside and occupied before lifting her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. Elliott shifted his weight and sat next to her, pulling her into his arms.

"I'm so ashamed. I let her down, El."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. I fell asleep when I should have been awake, watching her."

"You made a mistake. Any one of us could have fallen asleep."

"But you wouldn't. We aren't supposed to. I did, and now my mistake may have cost Casey her life."

"Liv, don't get ahead of yourself. William won't kill Casey."

"How do you know, El? He beat her a few nights ago, he beat her unconscious and raped her last night, and today he somehow tracked her down, picked the damned lock, knocked me out, and took Casey. He seems pretty desperate to do something to her!"

"Liv, calm down. Come on, let's get some coffee."

"I don't want coffee, I want to find Casey."

"We're doing what we can right now. Munch and Fin are already at the station. They're looking at the evidence from Casey's apartment. Maybe we'll find something there, like a hotel or a resort that they went to."

"How the hell did he find her?" Olivia wondered aloud, not even listening to Elliott. "We would have noticed a tail."

"Liv, let's get you home so you can rest," Elliott said, standing. He reached for Olivia's hand to pull her up. She pulled her arm out of the way and got up on her own.

"I'm not tired. We need to look for Casey."

Elliott put his hands on her shoulders. "You aren't going to be much help if you don't get any sleep."

"Yeah? Well I wasn't much help when I did get sleep." She brushed past him but he grabbed her elbow. If looks could kill, Elliott would be dead. "What."

"This is not your fault."

"You're a terrible liar." She pulled her arm away and headed down the hall. She was leaning against the passenger side of his car when he came downstairs. Without a word, they both got in and Elliott drove them to the station. He finally broke the silence when he pulled into the lot.

"You going in?"

"I – I can't, El. They're going to be so angry."

"You're being too hard on yourself. Come on. We'll walk in together." He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. Olivia took a deep breath, nodded, and got out of the car.

"Great, you're just in time," Munch said as they walked in. He waved a folder at them and then tossed it on Elliott's desk. "You will never believe what we found." Elliott picked up the folder as Olivia looked at it over his shoulder. "We got the DNA back. The sample from the rape kit matches what we found at the apartment. It was in the system."

"William is in the system? How come nothing came up on his record?"

"Because – and this is what you won't believe – William Colton didn't exist two years ago." Munch paused, waiting for the appropriate reaction. The other detectives' mouths dropped open in shock. "Let me backtrack a bit. William's prints and DNA came up in four unsolved murders. Two in New York State, one in Pennsylvania, and one in D.C. He is the serial killer known as the Brander. We don't know his real name."

"The Brander…," Elliot said, racking his brain.

"His first was in Pennsylvania, then one in Albany and Rochester, then in D.C."

"His M.O. closely mirrors what's happening to Casey. He would pick a girl who appeared to be an "outcast" or with a very small circle of friends. He'd observe her for a several weeks, even months, before making a move and would quickly win her over. He'd promise all sorts of things to her like amazing vacations or romantic getaways. He would slowly pull her away and alienate her from her friends and family. And then after weeks of abuse, he would abduct her," Fin said, bringing a stack of files with him, handing them out to the other detectives. "The sick thing is that police would find a secondary apartment that had a perfect view of his next victim and he would memorize everything about her and her schedule. He would have everything planned from the get go. The wooing, the abuse, the eventual abduction."

"He'd take the girl to a warehouse or a storage unit of some sort and keep her for at most 48 hours, torturing her in various ways. Before killing her he'd brand his initials on her skin. The women had B.A., K.V., L.R., and D.N. branded on their arm and/or their chest. He would then dump the body in a somewhat public location and jet out of town, changing names and personalities along the way. He'd create an entirely new backstory. How he was able to charm people like the Milkoviches into believing he really knew them in college is beyond me. It could be they did know him and he made up some cock and bull story about changing his name, or maybe he's just incredibly persuasive."

"Or he threatened them," Fin suggested.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, he's been pretty meticulous – he was never in the system before, so there was never a match. He must have worn hats and gloves and the most common, basic forms of clothing that can't easily be traced. He'd place an order over the telephone for his branding irons and pay in cash when he went to pick them up. He'd clear out his home much like he did today to leave no trace of himself anywhere."

"But we got his DNA from the rape kit, and the CSU team were able to pull a fingerprint off one or two items he must not have thought to wipe down. His DNA matches the samples from all four prior murders, as do his prints."

"O'Halloran found several receipts to storage units. We're working on contacting security at each to see if they've seen Casey and William."

"So far, no luck."

"O'Halloran has sent another team back to the apartment to look for something that might help. For now, we're calling security and we just got his bank records. You two can start looking through that and see if there's anything there." Munch handed the folder to Olivia, who sat at her desk and started to look through it.

An hour later, the calls to the storage units resulted in a dead end. Olivia could barely concentrate on the papers in front of her. Finally, something from about nine months ago jumped out at her: a 12-month lease on an apartment on the same street as Casey's old place. She stood up quickly, nearly knocking her chair over. "Guys, he had an apartment in Casey's old neighborhood. Come on, let's go."

* * *

The superintendent hadn't seen William in several months, but continued to pay rent so he didn't ask questions. He said many of his tenants live upstate and use their apartment as a weekend or holiday getaway, so he figured William must be the same. He let the detectives into the apartment without argument and then went back downstairs. What the team saw sent chills down their spines.

The apartment itself was small – smaller than what he and Casey had been living in, and smaller than Casey's old apartment. The kitchen was to the left when they walked in and really just consisted of a fridge, range, and sink. It opened out into the living room area, with a bedroom to the left and a bathroom to the right. The walls along the bedroom and bathroom were covered with photos and newspaper clippings of Casey: sleeping, watching tv, reading, working, running, playing softball, screen prints from news interviews. A toothbrush, a ball of strawberry blonde hair, a Kleenex with streaks of mascara on it, a baggie of broken or stretched hair ties, and several ticket stubs were tacked along the wall. A telescope and camera were set up by one of the windows. Elliot peaked through the telescope and confirmed what they were thinking.

"This looks directly in to Casey's apartment." He picked up the camera and saw the memory card was still inside. He flipped through a few of them, all of Casey doing various things.

"Look at this," Olivia said, walking up with a box from the bedroom. "The bedroom had a mattress and another camera, and a box of notebooks. Look at this, El. He'd been taking meticulous notes about Casey for months before they met. Look, here's one almost a year ago: '6:48am, came back to apartment for keys. Second time this week.' And then later that day: "8:36, arrived home, 9:10 undressed without closing curtains. 9:13 set out outfit for next day. 10:33, turned out lights.' What a sick creep. And look, here's a calendar he taped together with all these details."

"It's got the time she woke up, went to work, went to bed, what she ate, watched on TV, read, when she worked on cases at home… He knew her patterns and nearly everything about her before he met her. He knew she'd be at the restaurant that night and be alone. He knew what wine to order, what flowers she liked. He'd been planning this for months."

"Maybe there's something in these that will point us to where he is." She handed Elliot one stack and took the other. They sat on the floor of the apartment and looked through them.

For the next three or four hours, Elliot searched through the first few notebooks in his stack to no avail. The he picked up another notebook and several receipts fell out from the pages.

"Liv, look. It's a receipt from the restaurant where they met. And a receipt for flowers the next day. And here," he paused, flashing the piece of paper. "Is a receipt for a storage unit. Bought two weeks after the flowers. This has to be it. This has to be where he took her."

"Let's go. I'll call for a warrant."

An hour later they arrived at the storage facility. The person working claimed not to have seen either Casey or William but showed them his unit anyway. It was empty. No sign of struggle, no blood, no evidence, nothing.

"Fuck," Elliot said, punching the door of the neighboring unit. "Where the hell did he take her?"

Olivia ran a hand through her hair and concentrated on calming her racing heart. She was so sure Casey would be here, that William had gotten so comfortable in his routine that he slipped up and left the evidence behind, but no, nothing. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts and think like a detective, not as a friend.

"Liv," Elliot said, nudging her. "Look. There's four abandoned buildings surrounding this area. What if he kept his supplies in here and took Casey into one of those buildings? What if he isn't planning on hurting her here, but somewhere else?"

Olivia was already heading back to the car. "Let's go."

They raced for the car and to the first abandoned building. They jumped out and entered as quietly as they could. They stood in the dark, dank doorway and listened, hardly daring to breathe. The building had seven floors and several rooms on each floor, but they were able to clear it rather quickly. There was no sign of Casey or William anywhere in this building. Undeterred, they went to the next one, sandwiched between an old gas station and a deli that would have several heath code violations if it were still open. They split up for this one, Olivia taking the odd floors and Elliot taking the even floors. No sign of Casey in this one, either. Only two more chances. They didn't want to think of what would happen if their hunches were wrong. They didn't even want to consider they were at another dead end.

When they entered the third, Elliot noticed drag marks in the thick layer of dust. He motioned for her to follow and they both pulled their guns. They were nearly done with the first floor when a sound made them stop cold. An agonizing, bone-chilling, muffled scream drifted down from somewhere above them. Without hesitation, they raced to the nearest staircase to find their missing friend.


	9. Fear

**Note: Fair warning - this chapter contains fairly graphic situations of abuse, torture, molestation, rape, and general feelings of fear. If these make you uncomfortable or uneasy, read the first four paragraphs and then skip to five paragraphs before the break.**

* * *

Casey could not remember a time when she had been more terrified. William's face was wild with anger, his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. He stood close to her as he forced her to change from her pajamas into her spare change of clothes. When she was done he shoved her makeup bag into her hands and pushed her into the bathroom.

"Put on make-up. Look like you're going to work. I don't want to have to deal with that later." He glanced back at the unconscious Olivia and Casey took the opportunity to try to escape. As usual, it didn't work. He pushed her back and she sat down hard on the toilet. He drew his gun and pressed it against her skull. "Put on your make-up or I will pull the trigger on you and then on your friend. Do it. Now!"

Fearing for her own life as well as Olivia's, she obliged. She didn't want to remind him it was four o'clock in the morning. She did the best she could with tears rolling down her cheeks and the gun in plain sight, pressed against her shoulder. When she was done to his satisfaction, he tossed her make-up on the bed, grabbed her by the elbow, and led her out the door. "One word, one little noise to make anyone think we aren't a normal couple – I will break your neck and come back here to kill your friend," he whispered in her ear. She couldn't take the risk that he was bluffing. Casey bit her lip and took deep breaths to stop crying and followed William down to his car.

They drove around the city for about an hour before he pulled off on a residential street and forced her to have sex against the car. Then he to shoved her in the trunk and tied her hands and feet together. Once in the cramped compartment she lost all sense of direction, and threw up out of both fear and motion sickness. They must have driven around for hours, or so it seemed. Finally the stopped, but William didn't come back to get her out. They were stopped for maybe ten, fifteen minutes before they started moving again. This trip was much shorter and when they stopped he opened the trunk of the car. The sun was starting to come up. She guessed it was about six in the morning.

William had, slung over his shoulder, a long yoga-like bag full of metal bars and other equipment. He hauled her out of the trunk and into an old abandoned building. Casey's heart continued to sink lower as he practically dragged her up three flights of stairs. They came out into a huge room that was probably about half the size of the building. It likely used to be a packaging or storage room, with at least twenty foot high ceilings. The room itself was full of boxes of things. They were all covered in layers of dust and she couldn't make out exactly what they were. She thought one grouping of boxes was of canned peas, but not all of them appeared to be of food. The boxes created somewhat of a maze walkway, finally opening up in the back half of the room. There were a few wooden chairs, something that looked like a barbecue pit, a camera on a tripod, and a filthy mattress and blanket. Before she could even comprehend all the items in the room, William shoved her onto the mattress, lifted her skirt, and took advantage of her once again. She didn't even have the energy to fight back or cry out. She knew nobody would hear her.

William grabbed her from under her arms and threw her in one of the wooden chairs. He pulled some cable ties from his bag and tied her wrists to the arm rests and her ankles and knees to the legs of the chair. He tied a kerchief around her head and situated it in her mouth. Then he brought over the camera and tripod and took pictures. Her skirt was still around her waist and she wasn't able to close her legs. She blinked back the tears, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her humiliation to be forever caught on film. He set the camera aside, walked over to her, and ripped open her shirt. She could hear the buttons landing in various areas of this torture chamber. He went back to his camera and took more photos.

When he apparently had enough, he pulled out a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes and dragged one of the chairs right in front of her, sitting so their knees were touching. He lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke right into her face. He went through two cigarettes in this fashion and then drank a beer. He broke the bottle against the wall behind her and came back, gently dragging the broken edge along her legs. Then he drank another beer, broke the bottle, and dragged it along her arms. Then he tossed it against the wall behind her, where it shattered. With his hands now free, he put one hand between her legs and the other under her shirt. She could feel bile start to rise in her throat and she did her best to push it back down.

Then he lit a fire in the barbecue pit. Once it got going he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and roasted it, using a stick from his bag. Then he placed an iron on top of the grill.

He came back over and smoked two more cigarettes, again blowing the smoke in her face. But this time, he put them out on her chest, creating a small line of circles down her sternum. Casey bit into the kerchief, trying her best to hide the pain. It wasn't horrible – certainly less than what she had experienced the past couple of days, but painful nonetheless. As he drank another beer he began to caress her breasts and slowly worked his way down between her legs yet again.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she was anywhere but here, doing anything but this. She concentrated so hard that she was successfully able to block it out for a few minutes. She was at the beach, walking along white sand, staring out at clear blue water. She had a dog and a bag of books. She found the perfect spot to sit and read while the dog played in the surf. The break of the bottle brought her back to reality as he swiped it across her arms. Thin lines of blood rose up. Still she refused to give in to her tears, to giving him the satisfaction that he was hurting and scaring the shit out of her. What was actually scaring her the most was that he hadn't said one thing to her since they left the hotel.

Suddenly, he stood up. He grabbed her face in his dirty hands and forced her to look into his wild eyes. He slapped her hard across the face, then the other cheek, then again. Then, raging in guttural, unnatural words, he put his foot on the chair and pushed it back. Casey's head hit the hard cement floor of the warehouse and temporarily blacked out. She forced her eyes open, the piped ceiling swimming across her vision. Still muttering nonsensically, he hauled the chair back up and grabbed her legs just above the knees. He squeezed so hard Casey thought her kneecaps were going to dislocate. He let go and spat in her face.

He went back to the fire to check on whatever it was that was there and came back. For the next several hours, he continued his ritual of smoking, putting it out on her chest, drinking while molesting, and then breaking the bottle and drawing blood. He would hit her in the face or forcibly grab her arms from time to time. He had ripped the sleeves off her shirt and long ago discarded her bra. She might as well have been sitting in that chair completely naked.

Casey had lost all track of time, but figured it was probably late afternoon judging by the sun no longer streaming through the windows around the roof of the building. She wondered how much longer he was planning to keep her here, if he was even planning to let her go. How many more beers could he drink? He had easily already had a full dozen. What else did he have in store for her? The more he drank, the meaner he got, and he had started out pretty darn cruel. A cold fear seized her heart as she realized that he may never let her go, that he could be keeping her in here forever, like some sort of sexual slave. A mattress to sleep on, barbecue pit and old canned food for meals… what a sick, twisted man. She choked back a sob as she realized that this could be her future. That he had planned this so meticulously that she may never be found. Her detective friends were brilliant, but William seemed to know how to cover his tracks. She was losing hope that they'd come to rescue her.

William was approaching her again, with one of those irons from his bag. Letters glowed orange hot and menacing at the end of it – a W and a C, the whole thing about three inches by three inches. That's when Casey realized what he was going to do. She fought furiously against the ties, but they only cut deeper into her skin. She tried to cry out but it was muffled by the kerchief. He grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and ripped it down even more, making sure her skin was completely exposed. Casey fought against her ties, trying to ignore the pain of the thin plastic slicing into her skin, determined to break the arm off the chair at any cost. That had to be better than forever being branded with William's initials. But the ties were too strong and she was too weak. As the hot iron touched her skin she let out a primal, bloodcurdling scream that was in no way muffled by the kerchief. Her skin felt like it was on fire, a cooking sensation that felt like it was going all the way to her bone. She continued to scream and cry in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. The kerchief was starting to choke her, trapping her breath inside. She had to calm down or she was going to hyperventilate. She concentrated on breathing through her nose as William returned the brand to the pit, laughing manically. He picked up one of the broken beer bottles and walked back to her. She wasn't sure how much more of his torture she could handle and prayed that he was coming to stick the sharp end of the bottle in her heart.

The pain in her arm was so sharp she could barely stand it and it was starting to make her hallucinate. Two people stepped out from behind the boxes, yelling "NYPD, drop your weapon!" It took her a second to realize that it was Elliot and Olivia, not a hallucination. William threw the bottle at Olivia, who ducked, and it shattered against a box behind her. He swiftly bent over and pulled out a gun from an ankle holster and aimed it at Elliot. But Elliot was faster and fired two shots. William slumped to the ground, a pool of blood spreading out from under his body almost immediately. Casey stared at his body, shocked, barely able to see him through her tears. She could hear Olivia call for an ambulance and Dr. Warner as she checked William's pulse. Elliot came over and knelt down in front of her.

"Casey," he said softly. She barely heard him, unable to pull her gaze away from William's lifeless body. "Casey. Look at me, don't look at him." He waited a few seconds and when she didn't seem to hear he reached out and touched her chin. "Case, look at me." He pulled down the kerchief from her mouth and tried to pull down her skirt, but she jerked away so he stopped. Slowly, she shifted her tear-filled eyes to him. Seeing him there in front of her snapped her out of it and she started to cry. She struggled violently against the ties that bound her to the chair.

"Hang on, Casey," he pulled out his pocket knife and cut the ties. As soon as her hands were free she pulled her shirt together, fastening it with the lone button still attached, but her shirt was so ripped it did nothing to cover her. She pulled at her skirt and then tried to pull off the ties before Elliot could get to them. "Hold on, I don't want to cut you," he said firmly. As soon as the ties were off, she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her for several minutes, stroking her hair and gently kissing the top of her head until she calmed down enough to pull away. He shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. The material irritated the fresh burn but she didn't care. He helped her stand and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist as they started to head toward the exit. He held her head to his chest so she couldn't see the body of her ex-boyfriend lying motionless on the concrete floor. They were almost to the exit when Dr. Warner's team arrived, with the EMTs close behind, complete with a stretcher. Casey climbed on without a fight and they wheeled her out. "Hey, Liv, I'm going to ride with Casey to the hospital. We'll meet you there!" he called over his shoulder.

When he got to the ambulance they had already hooked her up to an IV and were putting cold rags on the burn. Casey sat there, a blank expression on her face. She had gone back to her place on the beach. He climbed in took a seat next to one of the EMTs and reached over to hold her hand, rubbing it with his thumb for the duration of the ride. They rode in silence to the hospital and then whisked her away for treatment. Elliot went to the waiting room and sent up a prayer of healing. If he could, he would have gone in there with her and held her hand during the examinations. He didn't want her to be alone.

* * *

Olivia arrived about an hour later. He stood as she walked up and they embraced. "It's over, El. He can't hurt her anymore."

He pulled away and they both sat down. "I'm just afraid of how these memories are going to hurt her."

"Casey's tough. She'll come through it all right."

"Yes, she is tough, but this is quite an ordeal she had to go through. I think even the toughest person might take awhile to heal."

"You're right. I'm just glad he can't physically hurt her any more." They were quiet for a few minutes. "Hey, El? Have you thought about where she's going to stay for a few days?"

"I haven't had a chance to think about it yet, honestly. She doesn't have anywhere to go right now, and I highly doubt she'll want to go back to the apartment she shared with William. I won't let her go back to that apartment."

"That's what I was thinking, too. I don't want her to be somewhere with all those terrible memories and I especially don't want her to be alone. What if I suggest she stay at my place, and you and I can take turns looking after her. It's small but it's better than her office. What do you think?"

"She's Casey. She'll probably not want to intrude and say she'd rather stay at her office. But I think she'll want to stay with someone."

"I'll offer my place to her and take the first shift. We'll talk tomorrow, but why don't you plan on coming over after dinner?" Liv suggested. Elliot nodded and was about to reply when the doctor walked in and shared the diagnosis.

"She's okay. She has a second degree burn from the brand and we have put together an at-home kit to clean and re-bandage it. You can buy all of it at the grocery or drug store without a prescription. You'll need to keep her hydrated as much as possible. At least eight glasses a day. The cuts on her wrists and ankles aren't deep, but are painful, and we have bandaged those as well. We asked her some questions and gave her a CT scan, and it looks like she has a mild concussion. She's in a bit of shock – not medical shock, but emotional shock. She barely said anything or moved while we worked on her. Except to repeatedly say that she refuses to stay overnight and would like to go home. We'd like to keep her here for observation, but she refuses. So, we will compromise - we'd like her to stay for a few more hours to ensure she isn't dehydrated and can regulate her body temperature. I would recommend she stay with someone for several days to decompress and help her with changing the bandages and cleaning the wound. She needs plenty of rest and keep her activity limited. Check on her every few hours and wake her up if necessary. If she complains of a headache, give her Tylenol, but no Advil. If she starts acting strange or out of character, bring her back here immediately. For now, we've given her some pain medication that should also reduce the overall swelling. If you'd like, I can give you a reference of a great psychiatrist if she needs to talk to anyone. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Doctor. Thank you for your help," Elliot said, shaking his hand. Olivia nodded and then they both sat down to wait. They sat in silence for the next three hours, dozing off and on. Every so often one of them would go check on her, but Casey was zoned out and wasn't even aware of their presence. It was almost nine when Casey was wheeled into the room, wearing a pair of slightly oversized hospital scrubs. The bandage around her arm was peaking out from under the sleeve and her wrists were wrapped up tight, looking almost as though she had tried to slit her wrists. Her injuries were so extensive that both detectives prayed that she had been given strong pain medication.

"I'm ready to go. I want to go home," she said dully.

"You can stay with me for a bit, Casey, if you'd like," Olivia offered.

Casey stared at her for a second, as though she didn't quite understand. Then she nodded. "That would be nice. I need some clothes, though. And my toothbrush."

"Cragen sent one of the female detectives with Munch to the apartment and picked up several changes of clothes."

"Munch couldn't go on his own?"

"Do you really want Munch dressing you?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. The joke made her snap out of it a little and she cracked a smile.

"You're right. I don't think I do."

The nurse wheeled Casey to the entrance of the hospital while Olivia went to get the car. Casey stood shakily and Elliot put his hand on her back and helped her into the car. They stopped at the station to pick up Casey's clothes and so Olivia could get her car. Before they went their separate ways, Elliot pulled Casey into a hug once again. He wanted to tell her how happy he was she was okay, that he was sorry she had to suffer through this, but he couldn't find the words. Casey pulled back and whispered a thank you. His actions said much more than any words. He waved as they drove off and watched the car until it turned out of sight.


End file.
